


Stuck in a Beatles song (ficlets)

by Sailorsenshiringo



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dancing, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:58:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2709797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sailorsenshiringo/pseuds/Sailorsenshiringo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock represented in The Beatles' music. Fluff, AU, Angst, etc. Fyi, these are each seprate stories, divided by chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Album: Please, Please, me  
> Song: "I Saw Her (him) Standing There"  
> John Watson loses a bet, and has to take a dance lesson.

John didn't like the fact that he lost the bet. Mike had somehow got John to agree to taking a dance lesson if he lost. And now John wanted to step out, but knew better, and now he had to learn to waltz.

Personally John knew his way around a surgery floor much better than a dance floor. John's last time dealing with rhythm was playing clarinet in secondary. Violin and one-two-three step wasn't his style. 

"Maybe you'll meet a nice girl." Harry and Clara joked, and John only shook his head.

He now walked into the dance studio. There in the lobby was an older woman, who was obviously the receptionist, greeted him.

"John Watson, correct?" The woman asked glancing at a paper.

"Yes," John replied, and the woman looked at him in pity. He thought to look over the pity-filled expression.

"Third room on the right, your instructor will be in shortly." 

John followed the instructions, and found himself in an empty dance room. It was airy and had ceiling to floor mirrors. And then, John sat alone for a half an hour, questioning where the other students were, and where the instructor was.

Then a teenager, tall, lanky, dark haired, and John thought he was gorgeous, walked in.

"John Watson," the teen circled John, "medical student, military dreams, and you lost a bet, thus you have to endure a dance class."

"Do you know Mike?" John asked, brows furrowed.

"No. Unimportant." the boy said, crowding into John's private space, and dropped his arms around John.

"You-you're the instructor?" John asked, settling his arms around the lanky teen.

"Yes, mundane. Now, listen." With not a sound in the room, the boy lead John's feet around the floor. And the two of them reflected around them. What a sight they made, the teen was a head taller than him, and had to be around 17. Then within the breathtaking teen's arms was John, an average-at-best man. 

"You're less of an idiot than I originally believed." The boy said.

"That's grand coming from a bloke who forgot to tell me his name." John said as the boy pushed play on a stereo, immersing them in the sound of the violin.

"Sherlock Holmes." The boy said, once again wrapped in Sherlock's arms. For the rest of the lesson John and Sherlock danced closer, and John decided that he would never be able to dance with another person without thinking about the all-angles body that held him now. After this class, John would remember the dancing while dealing with the hardest parts of war.

Sherlock secretly kept John Watson in his heart as the only man who he would love.


	2. Misery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Album: Please, Please Me  
> Song: Misery  
> Sherlock falls, and John feels broken. Angsty thing, this ficlet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is all BBC's I own nothing.  
> All Beatles songs belong to Apple Records!

John had watched Sherlock fall, checked his pulse, and found him dead. John wanted it to be a trick, in fact he believed it was. Yet, the world had always been unkind to the old army Doctor.

Then, in the weeks that followed John cried. How long he tried to avoid doing so, really was only a very short amount of time. 

His days went from chasing criminals and working at the clinic, to sitting like a distressed teenaged girl on Sherlock's chair, and sleeping in the detective's bed. 

Greg and Mycroft came around trying to figure out a way to draw John out of the depression that curled around John's heart. John, stubborn and loyal, hardly ate, and snapped at anyone that bothered "his and Sherlock's" flat. 

As the time passed, John only left the flat once a week, but came to a realization. John Watson loved the mad, insane, beautiful genius that was Sherlock Holmes. From the odd color of his eyes, or the marble tone Sherlock's skin held, John was in love. 

Lestrade tried to sympathize with John, saying that the situation was a drag. Every time he said that John shook his head. A friend moving to another city was a "drag", losing your world was pure misery. 

John snapped at Greg, and told him just that. With that Gregory Lestrade wouldn't bother with John anymore.

"John is a lost cause Mycroft, I can't do this domestic shit anymore. Not my division."

Later that day a encrypted message was sent to John Watson's blog. John opened it to find links to the "I believe in Sherlock Holmes" campaign. With that John found a new passion.

A month after getting into the "I believe in Sherlock Holmes" campaign, John Watson started to observe. Not one person could say John didn't learn anything from Sherlock Holmes. 

The web connected, and leeches back to one person, and it made John's blood boil. If his inference was correct, the sorry state he was in was unwarranted. That moment he realized just how large organizations of many means were falling, John instantly thought of Sherlock. This was exactly how he would have done it. 

Before John realized what he was doing, his hand had dialed Mycroft Holmes' number.

"Doctor Watson." The cool, posh, voice answered.

"Send Sherlock back." John choked out through tears and anger. 

Mycroft's cool voice didn't falter as he replied. "Doctor Watson, you are a man of science. You know Sherlock cannot return from the dead."

John scoffed into the phone. "Well, we both know that's a lie."

Mycroft's voice hitched, "We'll.see what we can do Doctor Watson."

After that phone call John fell into deeper depression. Mycroft hadn't contacted him since that day, and was sure he was long forgotten. 

A year later Sherlock returned. Not a single visible wound was visible on Sherlock. But John looked like death warmed over, in fact John was sure he would only live at the most a month more. Sherlock came back to find John starving, and laying on the couch. The detective thought him to be dead, rushing to the other man's side, dialling 999 in fear.  
______

John woke in Barts as a patient, not a doctor. A hand covered his, and dark curly hair laid haphazardly like a cloud around Sherlock's face as the detective slept in the bedside chair. John then felt his misery leave him.


	3. John (Go to her)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Album: Please Please Me  
> Song: Anna (Go To Him)  
> Sherlock has given up on any hope of relationship with John, and cedes to Mary being the one for John.
> 
> (It's another Angsty one, folks)

Sherlock came back too late, and it was a pain to realize if he had only been able to get back sooner, then John wouldn't be in love with Mary. It seemed that the doctor that held his heart for so long had given up on the detective. Sherlock's second entrance into John's life was difficult for both of them. And the necessity of John's fist in Sherlock's face may have been justified, at least in both John and Sherlock's mind. The two men were still worse for wear in the feelings department. Yet, the woman, Mary, Sherlock couldn't shake a feeling of distrust with her. 

Time and time again, between the wedding, and everything else, John chose Mary. During this time Sherlock found it difficult to cope. Ms. Hudson became more and more agitated at the way that Sherlock was behaving. From taking out John's chair, as a way to prove it to himself that John wasn't coming back, to relapsing on drugs. Little did many of them know, the relapse was specifically so Sherlock could judge how much it would take to commit suicide quietly, away from the flat that reminded him that John used to care. Yet there John was, saving Sherlock from himself again. 

John found Sherlock, and questioned why he had blind loyalty, and dare he say it, love for this drugged up man. Yet Mary, beautiful, kind, soon-to-be his bride Mary was much much different than the man that now sat in their car. Looking back at Sherlock, he knew that if he had returned sooner, Mary might not have been an option. Yet, John had buried him, and his feelings two years prior. Looking at his future, John thought that maybe having Mary in the mix wouldn't be so bad. Sherlock, when he looked to the future saw nothing but darkness and loss. 

With this, Sherlock allowed himself to at least try and sweep John off his feet one last time. John was not yet married, right? This wasn't you know, socially immoral to the rest of society, so that's what Sherlock did. Lending a hand to all of the wedding preparations, and hoping that when it came down to it he wouldn't have to use the song he composed for John while on the run, for John's wedding. 

At times Sherlock sat in disbelief that John, his John was going to marry a woman. Yet here he was doing the couple's bidding, and planning a beautiful wedding with them in mind. That composed piece still sat by his violin, still stating "for John". As time progressed, Sherlock began to realize John cared not for Sherlock's love. For John loved Mary much more than him. 

Sherlock had two more tricks up his sleeve. One was a simple question, of which Sherlock already knew the answer to, and that was: "Can you dance?"

One experience dancing with John was enough to satisfy Sherlock for a lifetime. He had little wants for his transport, but dancing with John went to the top five after meeting him. When John answered expectedly, Sherlock hid his joy, and held John in his arms. The steady 1-2-3 of a waltz, although pre-recorded, sounded lovely as it filled the flat. The amount of control Sherlock had not to confess his love to John in this moment was immense. It was the repetition of "He loves Mary more than I." That sounded in his head and kept him from blurting it out. 

John took well to dancing after an hour of trodding on Sherlock's toes. Sherlock took well to John stepping on his toes, for it meant more time was needed for practise. A few moments during this lesson made the taller man hopeful. The cosmic depths of Sherlock's eyes caught the attention of the army doctor. 

"Sherlock, what's wrong?" John asked, seeing deep in those depths an unspoken pain.

"John, it's nothing for you to worry about."

"Sherlock, I'm your best friend, anything that worries you, worries me."

"I-" Sherlock paused, questioning if the truth was a viable option in this situation. "I don't think it's anything really, this music is just a bit to melancholy."

"It's a piece you used to play all the time around here," John had stopped and grasped Sherlock's arms. "A piece you played when you were in a good mood."

"Times change, John."

"I- yeah, they do don't they." John looked at his watch. "It's getting late, maybe we can practise more tomorrow?"

Sherlock looked outside to the dark London skies, the city and streets lit by the lights shone on the streets by businesses and cars. 

"Sure, and John?" 

"Yeah, Sherlock?"

"I- I- um, I hope you have a good night, with Mary." Sherlock cursed himself, how hard were three simple little words, all three being under five letters?

"I'll try, thanks for showing me how to dance, Sherlock. I don't know what I would do without you."

"And I you." Sherlock said softly and John left.

With that Sherlock had given up. It seemed John could not love him as much as he loved John, and Mary had won. It hurt, and was a shame, but the wedding went on with only a small issue. Luckily the consulting detective was there to assist, but yet the doctor married a woman instead.


End file.
